


District Nine

by Owiks



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bounty Hunters, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Auctions, Black Markets, Bounty Hunters, Crimes & Criminals, Firefly References, Gun Violence, Guns, Jealous Iwaizumi Hajime, Outer Space, Sadistic!Oikawa, Science Fiction, Smuggling, Space Pirates, captain!oikawa, eat the rich
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:15:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24563701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owiks/pseuds/Owiks
Summary: If you were told to come to a backwater planet, where one of the district's feels like do or die, would you take the offer? This district could be heaven or hell depending on who you gambled with. Oikawa Tōru: an arms dealer and black market keeper could make this way of life easy for you. Being on his good side meant you weren't on his list of people to snap in half;  safe of being considered a lamb for slaughter. If you landed on his bad side, things could and would become a hellfire. Many called him God, the devil himself, the grim reaper; any name would suit the mindgames he played on everyone. His talent in the arts of manipulation were famous among Sigrul; the streets of District Nine showed this fact.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Oikawa Tooru/Sugawara Koushi, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	District Nine

_ 22:39 ; twenty-one minutes before the auction. _

”Are we there yet?” An impatient scowl echoed from a voice that was far from familiar to the quiet silverette that sat next to him, with a sideways glance the others face came into view, eyes piercing and a flash of golden teeth reflected off his irises with a shimmer. It must have been a regular at Tōru’s district nine. The real name of the planet was unknown to most, just a mere echo in the back of most minds. The disheveled tone of the cabbie echoed to the back, “Wait your ass there, Iwaizumi.” and with a simple scoff the male next to him shut his mouth, those beautiful teeth of gold now his away. _Iwaizumi huh?_ The mention of the name brought a vivid memory to Kōshi’s already busy mind, the stern male was a regular to many of the events Tōru held throughout the years, as he read in the documents describing many of the visitors that happened to show up wherever the outlaw called to them. Furrowing his brows, Kōshi turned from the other, slightly annoyed at his presence and half tempted to lash out. 

_ 22:43 ; seventeen minutes before the auction _

As the rusted old cruiser drifted its way into turbulence, signifying they had made it into the atmosphere, a light sigh escaped the male. The rattling of the ship making him sick to his stomach, or was it the fact that he was going to a party full of human auctioneers? Whatever it was it made his brain scramble, and his stomach churn. Kōshi had to do what was needed. His normal scrappy outfits covered in a restraining suit, a white button up under the vest. Hair styled to his normal, middle part with a few dabs of an intoxicating scent. He was built to never displease the one he needed. With a small smile, the silverette glanced at his makeshift watch, tightly connected to his wrist and practically cutting the circulation off. His watch was something that kept him in reality though, letting him know he was still alive. With a few flashes seeping into the cruisers windows, Kōshi acknowledged that they were close to his destination. Wiping the sweat of his palms onto his neatly put together pants, a deep breath escaped the males pursed lips, the roaring engine coming to a jittery stop. 

_ 22:49 ; eleven minutes until the auction.  _

Before long the mingling of others drifted into his ears. As he stood up, the musky scent of district nine made him almost gag. A filthy city full of the rich and beautiful, now this was a turn for the worse. The darkened shades of the atmosphere gave way to migraine giving lights which were displayed through out the streets. Kōshi bit the inside of his cheek, keeping his posture straight as he led his way through the crowd of misguided individuals, and broken down droids that would most likely be sold for scrap in a later date. It wasnt Kōshi’s first time here but the smell was always different. Rather it be that scent of oil, or the disgusting burning smell from a recent riot that was carried out by the minimal amount of poor citizens that lay upon the streets. This was no place for a simple get together, and yet Tōru made it famous for this reason, giving this city a light within the shadows. Some labeled him God, others labeled him savage. All Kōshi knew was that the other had something he needed, and it wasn’t just his money. Before long the ginormous front of the building came into view. It’s monotone brown shadow gave way to an eerie feeling that ate the /innocent/ male, striking him with every ounce of guilt just for walking on the first step. 

_And just like that he was in._

Eyes hovering over the plentiful amount of stairs that laid in his wake, Kōshi got moving. Eyes darting over all the rather famous investors, but not the King of them all. His first assumption was that he was inside, the click of his own shows against the concrete steps made his head pound, clearly he didn’t seem prepared. But what’s on the inside compared to the outside always differed, clearing his throat quickly, the silverette took a prideful glance towards the wide range of people outside. His chest pounding to the sight, mind wandering towards the number of people inside. Pushing his way through the crowd of snobs, Kōshi finally made it within the castle of the King. A small smile pierced his face as if all those nerves he had just seconds before dissipated into the dust filled air. Eyes scanning for the man who ruled it all, the devil, the God, the Guilty. Oikawa Tōru. His mission was to find him, manipulate the master manipulator, and save the one he came here for in the first place. It might have been for the bounty against none other than the King himself, but the need for his friend. After his disappearance months ago this was the first trace he had on him, might as well mix personal business into your job right? _Smart Kōshi._

_ 22:53 ; seven minutes before the auction  _

If Kōshi didn’t find this man soon, he was bound to be in a mess. He could always lay low, bid the most, and get his friend back. But not only would that put him at risk for being noticed as an outsider, but also a shit ton of money which he didn’t have. A low sigh escaped his mouth as he moved his way through this mouse trap of a building. Trapped in a maze of people, Kōshi hummed a tune to himself, though no time for that. The silverette’s thick, slicked back middle part gave him the tiniest bit of sophistication that gave way to a new him. A new confidence within his walk, though on a job like this any miniature screw up could cost him his life. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead and against his cheek, the humidity in the room full of sweaty bodies made him heavily regret dressing so nicely; but you had to do a lot to fit in, didn’t you? After a quick unbutton of the top button connected to his collar, Kōshi continued on his way. Ashe toned eyes made their way around the room, a beautiful stage of gold and red design laid to his left, where most people gathered around. A stained glass bar say to his right, where many people seemed to meet, cheering with one another and creating small talk. Did they have any idea what was happening here? Naive bastards. Before long Kōshi’s thoughts distracted how from the ticking time bomb, which would inevitably ruin his plan.

_ 22:57 ; three minutes before the auction.  _

* * *

_ The Auction. _

If you were told to come to a backwater planet, where one of the district's feels like do or die, would you take the offer? This district could be heaven or hell depending on who you gambled with. Oikawa Tōru: an arms dealer and black market keeper could make this way of life easy for you. Being on his good side meant you weren't on his list of people to snap in half; safe of being considered a lamb for slaughter. If you landed on his bad side, things could and would become a hellfire. Many called him God, the devil himself, the grim reaper; any name would suit the mindgames he played on everyone. His talent in the arts of manipulation were famous among Sigrul; the streets of District Nine showed this fact. It changed every week, even the atmosphere couldn't keep a steady color or smell. The sky could be a beautiful maroon on Monday, on Tuesday it could be a stone grey. The devil made the conditions, not caring how it affected the poor below his foot. 

Tōru gambled people's lives so carelessly you'd have to be a mad man to be in cohorts with him. Especially with the bounties that hung over his head like a trophy, increasing every minute as authorities lost their case with him. Bounty hunters couldn't touch him for information, falling for his lies of a promised treasure on a distant planet. Stupid, naive hunters who didn't question his lying tongue. Many of the bounties came from sore bidders who didn't get the weapon they desired, instead you kill the man who didn't take your bid. It was the outlawish style of District Nine. The reputation Oikawa made for himself sat like a parrot on his shoulder, mocking everything the enemy said to their face; give it up while you're still ahead. Tōru's fame exceeded him everytime he got a special offer from a buyer; adding more cash into his wallet - into his bank account. Today was a private auction, a limited number of invites were distributed across the cosmos. Folks of all species would be attending; being overrun with the human race as usual. Nothing changed -- lower species never had the cash to attend. They were broke, no cent to their name. Pathetic. Even if they came and wasted time, it only added the viewings he needed. It provided the cash from their entry fees.

The mirror in front of him had a film of dust around the edges; probably from the pirate king wiping only the center. Why bother on the edges when you can be the center of attention for yourself? White locks meddled in his chocolate ones, giving the appearance of a delicious chocolate drop. They were a side effect of cybernetic modules he'd added to himself illegally, the rays damaging his hair. Either way it swept outwards, giving him an ego of authority. His eyes were also dual colored: one was a brilliant golden color, being the cybernetic scanner eye he'd picked up a few years ago. With it came the ability to gather information on whoever he was looking at it, if he so desired he could take notes on them as well. Simply think it and the note would appear underneath the pulled up information. A useful tool to hate if anyone in the room would prove to be 'disrespectful'. The other was a simple hazelnut, being the one Tōru left alone. Being human was important to Oikawa, even if the lack of sympathy for others prevented him from enjoying it fully. On the same notion, if anyone dared to pull a gun in the auction, they'd have one instantly pointed back at them. It paid to have a hired gun attend the auctions. Iwaizumi: he'd have the fiasco wiped away in an instant if they tried funny business.

The red duster he was wearing gave a stark difference to his milky, soft skin. He fluffed up the collar to his duster, adjusting his white gloves before unbuttoning his dress shirt slightly. Kill them with style, not kindness was the saying in the Nines. You see, there was only thing space pirates loved more than money and killing; it was fashion. You could say a million things about yourself through your clothing choices. In Tōru's case this was a crimson, knee-length collared duster, a loose white dress shirt with various necklaces -- the most notable of which was a coyote. A golden belt with the buckle being another coyote, black tight pants, and black leather boots. Holstered to the belt laid a few pistols. Plastering on a grin, the man walked out of the bathroom, boots echoing on the creaky wood. Time to sell off the prized item of the hour. The one thing people were aiming for today -- the one thing from legend he had acquired with difficulty. He swears it didn't involve murder, or violent actions against anyone. 

_ Daichi Sawamura. The best pilot you could get your hands on._

_ Three minutes until the auction.  _

The pirate king hummed sadistically to himself, walking eagerly to the back of the stage. His coat billowed out behind him with each long stride adding onto his lustrous image. A singular chair sat backstage behind the red curtains; a single pilot occupying the chair. He was neatly tied to the item, a blindfold bound to his face. Something about the sight in front of his eyes was hilarious to Tōru. Daichi Sawamura was one of the best intergalactic pilots; no one would argue with you on that account. His methods of obtaining goods however, weren't the acclaimed ones told to small children as a bedtime story. It wasn't happy or family friendly -- nothing to do with Sawamura was heartwarming. He was like anything you found in the Karge System: dangerous. Especially on Sigrul. It was near impossible to escape the gore, carnage and murder that the planet breathed. If you wanted a happy, family friendly PG story, you best hike it to a different solar system.

"So the Devil himself will be selling me to my inevitable doom? Huh, I though you were too disgusted by my sheer presence to even approach me." Daichi's voice sounded gravelly among the smooth tones of the crowd a few feet away from them. The ones who he'd be entertaining within a few moments. A mere drape stood between Daichi's fate and Oikawa's relief. A smug expression rested on Daichi's lips as the King scoffed. Sawamura knew how to get underneath people's skins, even the most apathetic of the lot. The striped haired man grabbed Daichi's jaw harshly, secretly begging it'd leave a bruise as he forced him to look up. If he wasn't selling him off to rich men, Tōru would have given him a black eye hours ago -- the man liked to be a prick with his comments. There wasn't a lot of talking between the two in his quarters, but when Daichi did talk it was always to make a snide comment towards the King.

"Says the scoundrel. A pole cat who eats the lowly garbage of people praising you. You're a worthless, pathetic, rotting bag of flesh who people look up to. Stop acting like you're better than me. You have sunken just as low, Sawamura." Tōru growled through gritted teeth. The bastard loved to perform a show for the innocent civilians. The great king might be apathetic, yet he knew better than toy with hearts of children. A chuckle escaped the detainee, snapping Oikawa out of his thoughts. The coolness of it bewildered him for a beat, a sinking feeling building in his gut. Cruelty can shape men into the most revolting, replusive humanoid you can imagine. It laces itself into a person's heart, sealing it in a warm embrace. Even the Pirate King could recall a time when Daichi had genuinely good intentions -- when his motives weren't shameful to the Pirates Code. 

"I'm a hero compared to you. My 'bad' actions got painted in a magnificent, heroic light. You're the pirate who is the main black market. Call me whatever you want. But I think the crowd is growing bored, God. Feed your hounds, won't you? I'll be dead to you in an hour."

Releasing Daichi's jaw, the smuggler forced himself to give a cheshire smile. At that split second in time, Oikawa had never wanted to kill a man in cold blood more. Tugging on a rope that connected to the satin curtains, they opened. A live audience. The wolves who were eying the sheep in front of them with an unknown hunger. The bidding was about to commence. "Ladies and gentlemen, and all other folks, welcome to the Coyote's Den! Our dish for tonight is the man we ALL adore: Daichi Sawamura!" Tōru shoved the chair forward with a kick, laughing under his breath at all the boos from the crowd. Daichi was despised among Sigrul's public; black market dealers were the only people who knew his real tales. Oikawa reveled in the reaction before the bids started. 

_"Let the feast begin. Let's see the first bid."_


End file.
